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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25295383">Big Sky</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower_beatles/pseuds/sunflower_beatles'>sunflower_beatles</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Orville Peck - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Based on a dream I had, Country &amp; Western, Desert, Exhibitionism, Festival, Gay, Gay cowboy, Hotel, M/M, Music, NSFW, Orville Peck - Freeform, Other, but i tried to keep it pg-13, cowboy, no glory in the west, oh my god they have to share a bed, pony - Freeform, show pony - Freeform, summertime, top orville, yeehaw</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:13:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,609</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25295383</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower_beatles/pseuds/sunflower_beatles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After running into small-town struggling musician Orville Peck at a festival and hitting it off, our narrator finds themself attracted to the mysterious masked cowboy.</p><p>-</p><p>This fanfiction is based on a dream I had in which the events up until the end of the festival happened. I made the rest up and it's totally fictional and the timeline of real events ("Summertime" being released, etc.) is completely inaccurate so don't take my word for it! Also, the work title and chapter titles are lyrics from "Big Sky" by the man himself!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Orville Peck/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Dirt King, Black Crown</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Howdy! I know it's been a hot minute since I've posted on here, but in February I was introduced to Orville Peck and now here I am posting fanfiction about him. You can expect a lot more Orville content in the near future.</p><p>I tried to keep this PG-13, but there is still some implied Sexy Scenes. No details, though. Sorry. Orville, if you're reading this, I love you and I tried :&gt;</p><p>I also am on Instagram @sunflower.sketches where I post art and take commissions, Instagram @boycaughtintherye which is my Orville fanpage, and Twitter @elliotg44 where I tweet random crap and sometimes stuff about Orville.</p><p>Enjoy and make sure to pre-order Show Pony on iTunes out August 14th, 2020 :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>I navigate my little car through the lumpy dirt parking lot. Clouds of dust from my tires block my rear-view mirror as I try to back into an empty space. I wait a moment for the plumes to settle and continue backing up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once I’m in the spot I grab my keys and hop out. The sandy air greets me, immediately robbing my lungs of all moisture as it always does. Summer in Arizona is always baking hot, and my skin quickly begins to perspire under the small backpack I wear as I walk across the lot towards the entry gates. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As I near the fence that circles the festival’s boundaries, I notice a young man in a red cowboy hat struggling to lift some obviously heavy equipment from the back of a van. I quickly run over and grip the underside of the object, which appears to be a guitar amplifier. The man’s bright blue eyes meet mine and I am startled by the mask that covers most of his face. It’s black leather from his nose upwards, with a long black fringe hanging from the bottom. We both grunt under the weight but silent gratitude floods from his expression as we set the amp down about fifteen feet from the van. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man stands upright and sighs. “Thanks for the help, partner,” he says in a surprisingly melodic voice. He’s wearing a denim vest over a t-shirt advertising a band I've never heard of and blue jeans with cowboy boots. A large belt buckle rests at his hips. He’s very physically attractive, but most of all, I can’t tear my sight away from his eyes, kind and piercing and mysterious… </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, of course,” I say. I stick out my hand for him to shake. “My name’s (Y/N), by the way.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiles, mouth barely visible under the hundreds of strands of his mask. “Orville.” He grasps my hand firmly. His grip is strong and his hand is adorned with a few decorative rings. “Pleasure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All mine,” I say, offering a small smirk. He’s still staring into my eyes. “Um, do you have any more heavy stuff to lift? I’d be happy to help some more.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Orville seems to break out of the trance. “Uh… oh, yeah, I actually do, if you wouldn’t mind…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Over the next ten minutes, we lift four guitar cases and three more amps out of the van, along with random bags of other techy stuff. When we finish we both lean against the shaded side of the van and catch our breath in the boiling desert air. Orville opens a small cooler and hands me a water bottle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So I gather you’re a musician?” I say, taking a sip of cool water. He nods, eyes somehow still glowing despite being in the shade. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I do gigs like this often. They don’t pay all that great, but I love everything about it.” He shrugs. “What about you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Artist.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I had a feeling. I mean, your shoes are awesome,” he says, gesturing to the hand-painted Chuck’s I wear. He steps away from the van and squints into the sunlight. “I’d better start setting all this up inside,” he says. “I don’t suppose you’ll be sticking around for my set later?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, sure, yeah! What time…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be on the small stage at eight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be there,” I say. He offers me his hand once more, and we shake. I notice a red bandana sticking out from his back pocket. Thank God. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I look forward to seeing you in the crowd,” he says with an almost flirtatious smile, eyes following my gaze silently, briefly. He lets the handshake linger before I turn and walk away, his sky-blue eyes pasted in my mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I make my way through the gates and begin exploring the festival grounds. It’s quite a small event, with only a couple thousand attendees, but I always go when it comes time each year. It gives me the opportunity to people-watch and pick up on some new music and pop culture trends. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I buy a soft pretzel from a vendor and settle on a dusty hillside that overlooks the desert and festival grounds. I take out my drawing pad and, pretzel in one hand and pencil in the other, I begin to sketch the landscape in front of me. The hazy skyline meets the earth in a blur of grey and blue dust and orange rock. It’s impossible to decipher exactly where the horizon should go, so I take a guess and draw a line across the page. I begin to fill in the far-off rock formations I see, certainly towering over someone, but not me. They’re barely a centimeter tall from where I am. The sun is low behind me, casting long dark shadows from the tents and hills that I block in with the side of my pencil. I’m just blocking in the shape of the cart where I bought my long-gone pretzel when someone speaks behind me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You certainly weren’t lying when you said you were an artist, huh.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I turn to see Orville standing a few feet away, looking at the sketchbook resting on my lap. He sees the startled look on my face and laughs. “Can I join you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, yes, of course,” I say, hastily closing my drawing pad as he sits cross-legged on the ground beside me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, don’t put it away!” Orville exclaims as I tuck my sketchbook away. I don’t like when people watch over my shoulder as I draw. But Orville seems genuinely interested, and I take it out again and flip to the page I was working on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gasps slightly and takes the pad into his lap. “This is so cool, (Y/N),” he says. “Do you mind?” I shrug, and he flips through, studying each piece and making positive little remarks. I feel my cheeks heat up when he opens up a full-color illustration I did last month of a cowboy, horse rearing as he rides in front of a desert sunset. Behind him sits another man, arms wrapped tight around his waist as he tries not to fall off. It’s clear that the man is more so hugging his partner than holding on for safety, though. Orville studies this image for a long moment and I watch his eyes widen as he notices little details. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love this,” he says, turning to me. “Is it for sale?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, um, I can make prints, if you’d like,” I say hastily. “$15.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sold.” He closes the sketchbook and returns it to me. “I saw you looking at my bandana earlier,” he says, a sly grin spreading across his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah?” I reply. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mhm,” he says, nodding slightly. His teeth cover his bottom lip as he smiles to himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I like it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, thank you kindly.” Orville falls back on the rocky hillside and tucks his arms under his head. I lean back too, crossing my legs at the ankle. He turns his head and opens his mouth to say something. We study each other for a moment before he backtracks and looks up at the sky. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The infinite blue that was once there has begun fading into a soft purple that gets progressively more yellow as the horizon behind our heads approaches. I watch Orville’s eyelashes as he blinks and his tongue runs over his lips as he looks at the pale periwinkle sky that extends for eternity above us. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have a song called ‘Big Sky’,” he says, gesturing to the Big Sky overhead. “I’m going to play it for you tonight.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I blush lightly. “What's it about?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm… many things.” His foot moves to the music drifting over from the main stage. The scent of greasy fried food occupies my nose but Orville is close enough that I smell his cologne. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, darlin’.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My heart beats a little faster.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We lay for a while in silence as the light sky fades to a mid-tone shade of indigo. He sits up and adjusts his hat. I watch his back and shoulder muscles flex in the bath of evening sunlight as he stretches. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He checks his watch. “And I’m nearly late!” Orville rises to his feet and tips his hat down to me. “See you soon, (Y/N).” He strides off down the hill, meandering slightly, long slender legs kicking up small tufts of dry dirt as he goes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ten minutes later, I’m sitting in the front row of seats before Orville’s set is about to begin. There are maybe fifty other people scattered across the couple hundred seats that were set up in front of the little stage. Soon Orville comes out and stands in front of the microphone with a guitar slung around his shoulders. The sun’s evening rays dance over the metal and bathe him in golden light. He looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>absolutely angelic</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good evening folks,” he speaks into the microphone. “Hope y’all are ready for a great evening, it’ll be a good one. I’m Orville Peck and I’m a musician and real-life cowboy, or so I say.” He smiles into his words, though I can hardly see through the golden glow of the fading sun and the dark fringe of his mask. “I’m gonna start off with a song I wrote called ‘Buffalo Run’.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He plucks his guitar and dives into the song. It’s an upbeat one and his voice is incredible. Deep, smooth as butter and with just enough vibrato to leave you wanting more. I close my eyes and feel myself practically swoon as he belts into the mic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Orville plays a few more songs, all of which I manage to individually fall in love with, before switching guitars. By now the sun has finally set below the low desert horizon. The air is no longer baking, but rather, quite comfortable, and an indigo haze has settled over everything. He comes back to the mic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank y’all for sticking around to hear me play… uh, this last song is a personal favorite of mine that I’ve written… it’s pretty universal, I suppose. It’s called ‘Big Sky’.” Orville looks directly at me and winks and I feel my heart flutter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few twangs of his guitar and he jumps into the lyrics, voice almost impossibly low and </span>
  <em>
    <span>astonishingly</span>
  </em>
  <span> sexy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fell in love with a rider</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dirt king, black crown</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Six months on a knucklehead hog</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I like him best when he's not around</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He gets me high, ooh, big sky</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fell in love with a boxer</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stayed awake all year</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Heartbreak is a warm sensation</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When the only feeling that you know is fear</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t know why, oh, big sky</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gestures to the sky above us each time he says “big sky”, and each time he says “fell in love”, I swear he looks at me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He finishes the song with a final chord and the audience claps politely. I blow him a kiss, and though I can’t see his cheeks, I can tell he is a bit flustered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Orville disappears behind the stage with his guitar and I wait around in the seating area. No one else is scheduled to play here tonight, thankfully, so when Orville finally appears we have the entire section to ourselves. He lowers himself into the chair beside me and I’m suddenly very aware that our knees are less than three inches apart. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So? What did you think?” he asks excitedly. I notice he’s tied back the strands of his mask into two thick braids on either side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m silent, trying to form the words in my head. He frowns. “Really? That bad?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no, Orville, it was incredible!” I stutter. “I’m honestly speechless. You've left me completely speechless.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiles. “I’m really glad you liked it,” he says. His left arm drops to rest on the back of my plastic fold-up chair, millimeters away from my back. “Not many people do these days.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We glance around the festival grounds. People mill around in groups, drinking and laughing. Music from the large stage echoes back to us. I’m struck with a sudden realization. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This festival is not at all remarkable, in my opinion,” I say, laughing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>aggressively</span>
  </em>
  <span> subpar, yes,” he replies, grinning. I get the feeling that I could spend a thousand lifetimes around him and still not grasp just how vast and beautiful his mind is. I can’t stop looking into his eyes. His fingertips begin tracing my bare upper arm absentmindedly, but I feel every atom of his touch. He seems to lean closer to me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I ask you something, (Y/N)?” His eyes catch the neon lights of the aggressively subpar festival that surrounds us and colors them in deep cobalt blue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” I say, moving my hand to finger one of the braids that hang from his mask. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you believe in soulmates?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His knee moves to touch mine and I think. “I suppose so,” I say slowly, “but not all soulmates are romantic… they could just be platonic, or even purely sexual.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Orville smiles and bites his lip a little. “I feel the same way.” His hand slides from his lap to my knee and travels up my thigh. Chills rush through my body though it’s not cold outside. His fingers graze all the way up my arm and trace my neck, right along my jugular vein. “Your heart is racing,” he says, smirking. “Am I doing that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My face burns in embarrassment and I utter out a “Maybe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>“Mmm.” His breathing is heavier and closer to me now. “I’m honored.” His fingers rest over my pulse, his touch warm and steady. His face can’t be any more than a foot from me now, close enough that I smell peppermint and cigarettes on his breath. God, his lips look so full and </span><em><span>utterly</span></em> <em><span>kissable</span></em><span>. I take the other braid in my left hand and twist them between my fingers. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why do you wear this mask?” I ask softly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s quiet for a moment before answering. “I want to let you decide why. Make your own interpretation, as you wish.” I nod and his hand moves from my neck to my jaw, where he cups my face. His thumb gently brushes over my mouth. “You’re beautiful.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My pulse quickens even further and my cheeks flush a deeper shade of red. His eyes dart between my own and my lips. He leans in ever so slowly, and I pull on his braids to close the space between us. His lips crash against mine, soft and hot and firm, and immediately his hand travels from my face to under my knees. He pulls my legs over his and I’m startled by how strong he feels. His opposite hand pushes into my hair and his thumb brushes over my cheekbone. He moves his mouth against mine as I drape my arms around his neck and push his head hard to mine. My nose is pressed against his mask and his breath is hot and humid and he bites my bottom lip with his perfect teeth before pulling away and leaning his leather-clad forehead against mine. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We both smile, sharing air, my body completely draped over his beautiful legs in the middle of this entirely public festival. But being close to him feels so completely </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so perfect and unstoppable, that I kiss him again, running my hands down over his chest. He pulls me up out of my chair and onto his lap, still kissing me, and I cup his face with both my hands. I feel his stubble and his strong jaw flex as his tongue moves with mine. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I never want this to end, but of course it does. He pulls back and murmurs, “So, you like my bandana, hm?” I laugh and bury my face in the soft skin of his neck, pressing my lips there. He smells impossibly good and his fingertips run over my back, tracing my spine gently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Soon we stand and he offers me his arm, and we walk together back to the side where his van is still parked. We begin heaving all the equipment back into the vehicle. Thankfully this time it’s much cooler outside and we finish it all without much trouble. We lean against the van once more and Orville reaches into his denim vest and pulls out a small envelope. “Next Sunday I’m shooting a video for one of my songs. Nothing serious, just for fun, really…” He places it in my hand and looks me in the eyes. “In here there is a plane ticket. I want you to come and hang out while we’re shooting.” He glances away for a moment. “If that’s not too forward, of course…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I…” I’m left speechless for the second time that evening. “Yes, yes, I would love to.” I smile as he takes my hand in his and folds my fingers over the envelope. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? You would?” I nod and he grins. “Excellent.” He produces a marker and scribbles his phone number on my arm. “I’ll send you details tomorrow, alright?” He caps the marker and pockets it, but he’s still holding my hand. I nod, butterflies swarming inside my entire body. He pulls me a step closer to him by my wrist, so close I can feel his heat and smell his cologne. “I had a great time this evening.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” I reply. He leans in and presses a kiss to my mouth. My face burns with both embarrassment and electricity originating from his lips on my skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He releases my hand and whispers, “Text me later, darlin’,” before turning and getting into his van. I watch as he pulls away and winks at me as he drives past. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What a night. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He gets me high</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Only Feeling That You Know Is Fear</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is about the point that my dream ended and, in my waking life, I began making up the rest of the story. In my dream, I recall standing at the airport and not knowing where my gate was, and then I woke up so... </p><p>Enjoy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Saturday. The day before Orville’s video shoot. I’ve been bouncing on my heels waiting for the moment I can leave for the airport. Orville and I have been texting all week, figuring out the details of the shoot and just getting to know each other better. I learn very little about him, though, and truth be told, I’d almost rather keep it that way. He’s mysterious and anonymous and </span>
  <em>
    <span>sexy</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At last the moment comes and I drive to the airport. I make it in and all the way through security before I realize I have no idea where my gate is. I look around for a sign to point me in the right direction but only end up getting more lost. Finally I tap a security guard on the shoulder and he personally takes me to the gate. I thank him and sit down to wait for my flight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few hours later I get off the plane and find myself in yet another bustling, labyrinth-esque airport. Somehow I manage to find my luggage and hail a taxi to the hotel Orville instructed me to meet him at. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When I enter the lobby I look around for him with no luck. I ask the receptionist if someone by the name of Orville Peck is staying here, and she asks, “Are you (Y/N)?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I nod, slightly surprised, and she smiles. “I was told by Mr. Peck to let you go up to the room when you arrived.” She hands me a room key and a complimentary breath mint. “He’s expecting you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhm, thank you,” I say, apprehensive suddenly. She gives me directions to the room and I get in the nearby elevator. Room 518. It suddenly occurs to me that I might be staying in the same room as him. I quickly run a hand through my hair and pop the mint in my mouth. Thank God for the hotel industry’s odd and often annoying tendency to give out free stuff.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The elevator arrives at the fifth floor with a loud ding, and as the doors open my stomach fills with raging butterflies. They almost hurt, I’m so nervous. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I walk a ways before finding the room labeled </span>
  <em>
    <span>518</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I take a deep breath before knocking on the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a rustle of movement behind the door and I wipe my sweating palms on my jeans. The door opens and there he is. Masked, red fringe instead of black, and a white cowboy hat on his head, Mr. Peck of Room 518 stands in front of me, a wide smile spreading on his face. I can’t help but return it; his cheerfulness is infectious.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“(Y/N),” he says with a tone that makes my simple name sound like a melody. “I missed you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I blush involuntarily. He takes my suitcase and I follow him inside. It’s a small room and I immediately notice the lone queen-size bed. Even more butterflies fill my body.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As soon as Orville puts down my luggage he pulls me in for a hug. He is warm and snug and his chest feels strong against mine. I breathe him in. He smells of smoke and cologne and dust and </span>
  <em>
    <span>wow, I could stay here forever</span>
  </em>
  <span>. As if reading my thoughts, he pulls back and, arms resting on my hips, he looks me in the eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hope your flight wasn’t too awful,” he says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, you don’t even know, I’ve been waiting for this all week,” I say. “It could have crashed and I’d still be looking forward to this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiles wider and there’s silence. “Um, so, I realize there is only one bed in here, and I’ve ordered a cot, so you can take the bed and I’ll-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whoa, hey, I mean…” God, am I really about to say this? “We can both take the bed… if you want…? No need to spend the extra money.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s quiet for just long enough that my heart does what feels like a faceplant. Just before I’m about to stutter out an apology the small bit of his face I can actually see turns red and he says, “I’d love that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’d love that…? Oh my god.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Great,” I say, nervous nervous nervous. I sit down on the edge of the bed and stuff my hands under my legs where they’ll hopefully stop sweating. “So, what’s the plan?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He lets himself fall onto the bed, fringe flying everywhere. His t-shirt rides up and I have to tear my eyes away from the strip of skin that appears at his stomach. “Well, tonight we are going to dinner with the crew for the video and tomorrow, bright and early at eight in the A.M., we’re heading to the location, which is, to be blunt, the middle of nowhere.” He tilts his head toward me. “Sound good to you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely, yeah,” I say, still in some form of shock that I’m on the same bed as him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Great.” The strands of his mask are parted so I can see his mouth and the very tip of his nose. He pats the bed next to him and I lay back. Our shoulders are touching. He places his hand over mine and I feel the cool metal of his rings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We lay together in silence, just as we did a week ago on the rocky hillside of the festival grounds. He stands up after a while and I hear him turn on the shower and close the bathroom door. It occurs to me that on the other side of that wall, he is naked. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit, I need to stop thinking about that sort of thing so much</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I rise and rummage through my suitcase to find one of the nice outfits I packed. I remove my faded jeans and t-shirt and put on a pair of tight-fitting burgundy pants that flare moderately at the bottom and a loose, dark, button-down shirt with nothing underneath. I keep the first few buttons undone, leaving little of my upper chest to the imagination, and tuck in the bottom hem. I tug on some laced-up dark umber leather boots. I’m putting on a belt when Orville steps out of the bathroom. He’s still masked, much to my surprise. I thought for sure he’d take it off while we’re in private. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He immediately stops and stares at me. “Holy shit, (Y/N),” he says as I stand up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? What do you think?” I spin around to give him another angle and </span>
  <em>
    <span>wow, I am thriving off the look he’s giving me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He bites his lip and his eyes travel up and down my body. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You look…” His voice trails off and he shakes his head as a grin tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Now </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> left speechless.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Orville looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> good, standing in the entryway with that tight-fitting t-shirt hugging his chest and head tilted down in a slightly intimidating way, eyes intense under his mask. He takes a few steps closer to me and stops right in front of me. He fingers the edge of my shirt, knuckles brushing over my bare chest for a millisecond. He then pushes me backward with two strong fingers and I fall onto the bed. Every movement deliberate, he crawls onto the bed and kneels, legs on either side of my hips. He looks down at me with blue fire in his eyes and places two fingers on my neck. My pulse is again racing and he smirks as he feels it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I take a chance and place a few fingers on each of his thighs, but he quickly grabs my wrists and pins them above my head. He leans down and growls directly into my ear, “Did I say you could touch me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My stomach thrills from his words and I shake my head slightly. His breath is on my skin and, despite his intensity, he leaves small kisses on my cheek, finally reaching my mouth, where I lean up into the kiss. He tastes of toothpaste and his stubble grazes my cheeks nicely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s just introduced his </span>
  <em>
    <span>amazing</span>
  </em>
  <span> tongue into the kiss when there’s a heavy knock at the door. Orville practically throws himself off of me and hastily we straighten our clothes. He opens the door and a rather round and greasy-looking man is standing there in a cowboy hat and jeans. The official casual cowboy uniform. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Howdy, y’all ready for dinner?” he drawls in a thick Southern accent. Orville beckons to me and I come over. The man holds out his hand and I shake. “I’m Grant, I’m the director of Mr. Peck’s video.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nice to meet you,” I say politely. His hand is sweaty and when he lets go I subtly wipe my palm on my pants. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Orville locks the door behind us and we follow the man into the elevator and down to the street where a taxi is waiting. Orville and I take the backseat while Grant rides up front with the driver, a kind-looking older gentleman, also wearing a cowboy hat. I’m beginning to feel a little left out from the scene.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As we drive, Grant blabs on and on about the shoot tomorrow, and I try to listen, but my mind keeps wandering back to Orville. Without thinking, I place my hand on his knee, and he glances down at it and then me. He smiles and places his hand over mine, then half-heartedly returns to Grant’s ramblings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fifteen minutes later, the taxi stops in front of a rather quiet-looking restaurant. We climb out and Grant pays the driver as Orville and I head inside. It smells of brick-oven pizza and fresh-baked bread. My favorite. Grant catches up to us and he spots a few people he clearly knows sitting at a roundtable in the back of the restaurant. We walk over and join them and Orville sits next to me. I’m introduced to the crew: Sal, the videographer; Marie, the sound tech; and Redford, the costume and set designer. I’m told there are more people helping out tomorrow with set-up but that they’re the main guys. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The group decides on a giant multi-topping pizza and while we wait the crew talk about the shoot. Orville seems very engaged in the conversation but I feel like a bit of an outsider. I chime in where I can and laugh when they do, but I wish Orville and I were alone more than anything. I begin to panic slightly and bounce my knee nervously.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I excuse myself and slide out of the booth. Orville gives me a concerned look as I turn and walk away. I find the restroom and slip into a stall, where I stand for a moment to collect myself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God, why did I agree to come on this trip? I don’t know these people</span>
  </em>
  <span>! I try to take deep breaths but I can’t seem to calm down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bathroom door opens and I hear a “(Y/N)?” I murmur an acknowledgment and Orville finds my stall and I let him in. He immediately takes me into his arms and he holds me as I breathe in the comforting scent of his cologne. He rubs my back gently and soon I’ve calmed down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pulls back and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Are you okay?” His eyes are kind and concerned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I nod and smile a little. “How did you know?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That you weren’t having a good time? You were bouncing your knee like crazy and fidgeting a lot.” He wraps his arms around my waist. “I’m sorry, (Y/N), maybe this was a mistake, thrusting you into this situation—“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I place a finger on his lips. “Shh, Orville. It’s fine. I just get a little overwhelmed sometimes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” He hugs me once more. “I’ll keep that in mind, then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He leaves the bathroom and I take another moment to breathe before rejoining the group. The pizza had arrived while I was gone, and we dig in. It’s delicious and I wish I had more. And I catch Orville looking at me at least half a dozen times… </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. He Gets Me High</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Implied sexy time 8/</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After we finish, we leave and begin walking down the sidewalk. Orville strides next to me, our hands brushing occasionally. It’s just after sunset and the gentle shadow of dusk pours itself over us as we walk. It’s a quiet evening, with very few cars out aside from taxis, and the air smells like smoke and greasy food. We walk in silence while Marie and Grant talk ahead of us in depth about some sound-tech-related topic that I don’t really understand. Orville clearly doesn’t either. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The group slows and Grant is holding open a door for us. I peer inside and see cement stairs leading underground. I look back at Orville and he places a reassuring hand on the small of my back, and together we head down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It smells like cigarettes and weed, and it’s very dimly lit once Grant closes the door behind him. We walk single file, twangy Americana music wafting up and getting louder as we approach the door at the bottom. A bouncer ID’s us and lets us inside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We emerge into a hazy room with a low ceiling. A little band in the corner plays an upbeat blues song and there are people in cowboy hats </span>
  <em>
    <span>everywhere</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Now I really feel left out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We head to the bar and Grant orders us all drinks. I’m handed a beer and I sip it occasionally as Orville converses with the bartender. Grant, Marie, Sal, and Redford have all sat at a round table and are chatting by themselves. I brush Orville’s hand with mine under the counter and he seems to read my mind because he ends the conversation and turns to me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looks me in the eyes and says, “I’m guessing you’d rather sit away from the group for a little bit?” I nod, relieved, and we find a little corner table and sit across from each other. We sip our respective beers and watch the band finish their set across the little room. They begin packing up their stuff and I’m reminded of the festival, helping Orville move the heavy equipment from his van.</span>
  <em>
    <span> I can’t believe that was only a week ago</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me either,” Orville says, still looking at the band, and I realize I must have spoken my thoughts. He turns to me and smiles. “You okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I nod, and then hesitate. “Orville, can I tell you a secret?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He leans on his elbows. “Anything.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m feeling a little bit left out of the cowboy scene, to be honest,” I say, sipping the last of my beer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you don’t have a cowboy hat!” he exclaims. “Well, we have to do something about that, don’t we?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I suppose so,” I reply, unsure what he means.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Orville finishes his beer and stands suddenly. “Let’s go, then!” He offers me his hand and I take it, laughing. He quickly mentions to Grant where we’re headed, and then hand-in-hand we ascend the stairs and exit the tiny bar. It’s dark now, and the stars are out. We stand on the sideway and Orville has his hand out to hail a taxi, and his other hand is interlocked with mine. He gives a little squeeze and a flash of a smile crosses his masked face when the taxi pulls up. We throw ourselves into the backseat and Orville tells the driver where to go, and we’re off. Our legs are touching from hip to knee and his hand rests on the inside of my knee. I lean my head on his shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The taxi drops us off only five minutes down the street. We pay the driver and stand on the sidewalk and I realize we are in front of a leather shop. I see cowboy boots and chaps in the window… and yes, cowboy hats of every style and color imaginable. A wide grin spreads across Orville’s face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We enter the shop and the musky scent of leather greets us. In every direction there are items of leather. Rows and rows of hats line the walls, and Orville immediately pulls me by the hand to them. He begins spouting facts about the different features of the hats, and I don’t have a clue what he’s saying, but it’s adorable nonetheless how passionate he is. He begins taking hats off their racks and placing them on my head and each time stepping back to watch as I strike a goofy pose. He laughs, shakes his head, and puts the hat back. This goes on for a while before he picks up a black hat with a band of wooden beads around the base.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Orville places the hat on my head and I’m about to pose again but he grabs my shoulders and holds me. He looks into my eyes with admiration and nods. “This is the one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I have to agree, and we take it to the register together. I start to pull out my wallet but Orville stops me with a hand on my wrist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My treat, okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, god, no really, I couldn’t-” …but he hands the cashier his card and winks at me. “Thank you very much, then,” I say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We refuse a bag and I proudly wear my new cowboy hat out of the store. We decide to walk back to the bar and Orville’s arm snakes around my waist as we walk. We reach the bar but as we’re about to head down, Grant and the rest of the group stumble up the stairs, clearly drunk. Grant bumps right into Orville and bursts out laughing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Orvy, we were just leaving!” he says a bit too loud. His cheeks are flushed deep red with alcohol. “We’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Nice hat, (Y/N).” Marie has hailed a cab and they’re piling in. Suddenly Orville and I are alone on the sidewalk again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, that was unexpected,” he says after a moment. “Shall we?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So we do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We’re back at our corner table and we’ve each had a beer too many. I feel warm and giggly but not completely gone yet. Orville and I have moved our chairs right next to each other and my left leg is slung over his right one. We’re having a ridiculous conversation about God knows what and suddenly I get an overwhelming urge to kiss him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Orville, let’s get out of here,” I say, a hint of urgency lying under my slightly slurred words. He looks up at me and in his eyes I see every desire I’m feeling reflected back at me. That’s all I need to know. We throw a tip down on the table and run, clutching at each other and laughing, out of the tiny bar for the second time that evening. We hail a cab and while we ride in the backseat it’s all I can do not to straddle him right then and there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After an hour alone together in the hotel room, I bring his face to mine and kiss him, salty and sweaty and sweet. His arms slide under my back and he lifts me as he did before. He takes me into the bathroom and sets me down in the bathtub, where he turns the water on and kisses my hair and leaves me alone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How did he know I like to be alone for a few moments after something as wild as what just happened?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I clean myself up and slip on one of his t-shirts that sits on the counter. I emerge to find him underwear-clad and asleep on top of the covers, a sleep mask conveniently placed over his eyes and his cowboy hat still on. I manage to wake him enough to tug down the sheets and pull them up over his body. I slide into bed next to him and rest my head on his shoulder and my hand on his chest. The post-sex fuzziness lingers in my body and I breathe in Orville’s scent as I slip into a deep sleep by his side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I wake some time later to the hotel room phone ringing loudly. A wake-up call. Through my sleepy haze I hear Orville groan and slap a hand on the phone. He answers with a similar groan that sounds vaguely like a “Hello?” and offers a few more half-hearted grunts before slamming the phone down again. He’s still for a few moments and I begin to worry he’s fallen back asleep, but he sits up and runs a hand through his hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hair! His hat must’ve fallen off in the night. It’s quite dark in the room but I can tell it’s dirty blonde and short. Strangely, it feels more intimate to see his hair than the sex we had. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, god, the sex. The absolutely mind-blowing incredible steamy sex. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I wonder if Orville feels the same…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I watch his back muscles shift as he stretches with his legs off the edge of the bed. The sleep mask is still over his face and part of me is glad for that; I enjoy the mysterious element his variety of masks brings to him as a person. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He rises from the bed and walks into the bathroom without acknowledging me. I roll over and fight the urge to go back to sleep. I’m pretty close when I feel movement on the bed and a pair of arms sneaking above and under my torso. I smile to myself as Orville pulls my body against his and buries his face in my neck. I feel the leather of his mask. He kisses my skin softly and whispers, “So it wasn’t just a crazy dream, hmm?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I brush my thumb over his knuckles. “I guess not.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We lay in silence for a few minutes and I’m now fully awake. My heart is beating too fast from his touch to sleep. Each breath he takes pushes hot air on my neck and sends tingles down my body. Eventually he sighs and says, “We really do have to go, though,” and he untangles his limbs from mine and stands at the edge of the bed. He watches me for a moment and then takes my arms and pulls me into a sitting position. I laugh and he pulls me to my feet and I wrap my arms around his shoulders. He’s still only wearing boxers and I press my mouth to his bare neck and shoulders and breathe in his early morning scent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally he wriggles free from my sleepy hug and disappears into the bathroom once more, and I hear the shower turn on. I’m about to throw on some random clothes from my suitcase when he opens the door and sticks his head out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would you like to join me in here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My heart flutters and I grab my clothes and rush in. He’s already naked and in the shower with his back to me. His body looks so beautiful under the hot water and steamy haze. I can't help but notice that he isn’t wearing any sort of mask. I slip off his t-shirt and step into the shower. He hands me a bottle of shampoo and it becomes clear to me that there will be nothing sexual about this. I smile to myself once more as I lather my hands with soap. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We wash ourselves and each other, Orville keeping his face to the wall the whole time. He hasn’t really gone into detail about his fancy for masks but it’s obvious that it’s a big step to be mask-free with someone he’s essentially just met. I mean, it’s a big step for me to fuck someone I essentially just met, so I imagine he’s feeling similarly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We don’t exchange words during our shower or when we get out. He faces the wall away from the mirror and I watch in my peripheral vision as he vigorously dries his hair and tugs on a mask with a black fringe. I wear Orville’s t-shirt tucked into blue jeans. He turns and once he realizes what I’m wearing, a smile spreads across his partially obscured face and into his eyes. He steps close to me and wraps his arms around my waist and kisses me quickly. “You look amazing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I blush. There’s nothing more I can say. A thank-you just wouldn’t cut it. I’d need an entire thank-you party dedicated to him to express how grateful I am for his presence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He ushers me out of the bathroom. “I don’t want you seeing my outfit just yet!” When he emerges, he’s clad head to toe in black leather. He looks amazing (as usual) but I can't help but wonder if there is something more to the outfit than meets the eye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We step outside our hotel room moments later, ready for the day. I’m wearing my brand-new cowboy hat. Orville holds my hand down the hallway but when we step inside the elevator he lets go. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look, um, do you think we should keep… this… on the DL?” he asks, clearly uncomfortable. “I mean, I'm just not sure how the crew will feel if they knew anything was going on, and—“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, Orvy, I totally get it. It’s fine!” I smile and press a quick kiss to his cheek. “My lips are sealed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He grins. “Great, thank you. And… whatever it is we have, it'll find its way, y’know? Everything always does.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I nod and lean my head on his shoulder for the remainder of the elevator ride. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We step off and help ourselves to the hotel’s breakfast buffet. We eat in silence, side by side at a table facing the street, watching people go by on the sidewalk. A dark SUV pulls up to the hotel entrance and Grant hops out. Orville and I quickly shove down the rest of our food and rush outside before Grant can come in. He seems surprised to see us frantically chewing and scrambling to get into the vehicle. Grant shrugs and climbs back into the driver’s seat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Orville and I sit in the third row of seats behind Sal and Redford. Marie rides shotgun up front. I can't help but hold Orville’s hand as we drive, the row of tall seats and Grant’s erratic driving keeping the rest of the crew from turning around and seeing. He gives my hand a squeeze each time Grant takes a wild turn through the narrow and crowded city streets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Soon, though, we’re out of the city and driving on a calm highway. The sun is still low in the sky, just barely breaking the horizon, and it casts a lucent yellow light over Orville’s face, rapidly broken by the low shadows of the trees which line the road as we drive. He holds my hand and looks out the window at the landscape rushing by, and God, I want to lay my head in his lap and fall asleep there. He looks so utterly peaceful and beautiful under the sun’s jagged morning rays. I don’t realize he’s caught me staring until a direct hit on a pothole jars me back to reality. He smiles sheepishly and squeezes my hand once more. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Big Sky</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Slight NSFW towards the end but not graphic</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After nearly an hour of driving on the highway and thirty minutes on the most rural backroads imaginable, we reach our destination: a hilly, grassy expanse with a few trees dotting the landscape. The rest of the crew had clearly been there much earlier, setting up cameras on carts and other crazy equipment I can’t even identify a use for. Grant jerks the SUV to a halt and we clamber out. Redford, Marie and Sal immediately rush to their respective stations and Orville and I stand with Grant by the car for a moment. The air is warm despite the early morning, promising another scorching day ahead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So, (Y/N), has Orville told you about his-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shhhh!” Orville claps a hand over Grant’s pudgy mouth. “It’s a surprise, remember?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He slowly lowers his hand and Grant nods, slightly bewildered. “Yes, yes, of course… Um, shall we?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We walk together up the small hill towards a tent labeled “DIRECTOR”.. I learn that the song we are shooting for is called “Summertime” and it hasn’t been released yet. I’m told to keep my phone off and I’m handed a lanyard with a card labeling me as a “special guest”. I get a few dirty looks and Grant’s assistant looks like he wants to tell me off even further but Orville quickly steps in and whisks me away. He leads me to a nearby tent where there is a spread of snacks and drinks on a folding table. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, look, they need me for most of this stuff, so I’m gonna have to go, okay?” Orville’s hands are on my shoulders. I nod. “You can help yourself to the snacks here, everyone knows you’re here.” He smiles. “I’m sorry about them, they’re a bit pushy and like to keep a tight schedule…” His voice trails off and he looks at my mouth. “God, I want to kiss you, (Y/N)…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I smile to myself. “You shouldn’t,” I say, my cheeks filling with heat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But you should</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I want to say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know… Okay.” He shakes his arms and takes a deep breath. “Okay. I will see you later, alright? Feel free to wander around, just… try to stay out of the crew’s way, if you know what I mean.” I nod and begin peeling a banana. I lick the tip of the fruit playfully and Orville clears his throat. “Okay, um… Bye, then.” I laugh as he stiffly walks away, clearly bothered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Throughout the morning I travel around the set. It’s a beautiful location. The morning is bright and clear with only a few lazy clouds streaking the blue sky. The green hills go on for miles and miles. There’s a scene in the video in which Orville is somehow tied to a large tree with vines and ivy… The concept baffles me, but I can tell by the setup that it’s going to be a great video. Orville lip syncs to the song and though I hear only snippets it’s beautiful. Orville’s voice is melancholy and filled with longing and nostalgia and I find myself watching him struggle against the fake plastic ivy and call me crazy, but I think I’m falling a little bit in love with this man. This mysterious, sexy, beautiful, talented man. It feels like I’ve known him a lifetime when it’s only been just over a week. I want to know every facet of his mind, his body, his soul. I want to know him as well as I know myself. I want </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally the director calls a break for lunch and I rush to help Orville untangle his body from the vines. His face lights up as I run over. “Hey!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” I say. He’s really tangled in there. “Um, I don’t suppose we’re allowed to just cut you out..?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As if on cue, a crew member jogs over with two pairs of scissors and we hack away at the vines covering Orville’s body. He studies my hands as I cut him free. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the binding is gone from his upper body, I grip his hand and pull him to his feet. The crew member and I hold down the vines and Orville steps free with ease. I return the scissors and stand in front of him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you hungry?” I ask.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes widen. “STARVING.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We make our way to the food truck that had arrived about thirty minutes prior. We each get a vegan burger and walk a few minutes uphill, away from the set. Orville finds a flat rock overlooking the set and the hills and we sit cross-legged as we eat, our knees and shoulders touching. Orville practically inhales his food and then lays back, his hands folded over his stomach and the brim of his cowboy hat tucked low over his eyes. I study his leather-clad figure, trying to form the words to express my ridiculous feelings. I want to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you, Orville Peck, I love you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What was that?” He props himself up on his elbows and looks at me with the question. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, um, nothing,” I say, thankful the food in my mouth had muffled the words I’d accidentally said. He just smiles and steals a few fries from my basket. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I lay down next to him after a few moments. I remove my hat and let it rest on my stomach as I stare up at the sky. The Big Sky. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Orville’s hand brushes mine and I lace my fingers with his. I turn and find he’s staring at me. He squints into the midday light from under his dark mask and hat, and the slightest nod of his head tells me what to do. I roll over and straddle his lap, pressing my torso to his, and kiss him. God, it’s only been a few hours without his touch but I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it until now. His hands run over my back and butt and I fiddle with the fringe of his mask and cup his face. My thumb brushes over his mouth and it curves into a smile as we part. I kiss him once more and lay down on the warm rock beside him, my head on his shoulder and his arm around me, just as we did last night. The sun is warm and my belly is full and I can hear and feel his heartbeat under my head. Steady and strong. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I wish I could have stayed there forever. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eventually Orville’s phone pings and we have to make the trek back to the set for more filming. Before we leave our flat rock he kisses me, hard, pulling me against his body by my waist and winking as we part. Butterflies encase my stomach once more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The filming starts up again and I watch as Orville lays on a contraption that essentially allows him to hover over a bed of multicolored flowers. He lip-syncs to the song for a few takes. In between scenes, Orville turns his head toward me and winks. Grant yells “Action!” and the snippet of “Summertime” plays. I watch as Orville reaches for the zipper of his leather jacket and slowly pulls it down. He opens the jacket and, oh god, inside are flowers. Flowers of all colors and types line the inside of his jacket, thick and bright and beautiful. I have to clap a hand over my mouth to stop myself from gasping. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s the surprise</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I think. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God, I love him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Amen to that, honey,” says a clearly gay man a few meters from me, nodding vigorously. I laugh a little to be polite and watch as there are a few more takes of the unzipping scene.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A break is called after about half an hour and Orville sits up from the strange contraption. He looks entirely angelic, his jacket unzipped with petals protruding beneath, hovering over a floor of color. I help him off the cart and he is about to say something but he’s whisked away by some costume crew members. He sheepishly waves and I decide to hit the refreshments tent again. I’m spreading (vegan) cream cheese on a bagel when I hear someone clear their throat. I look up and nearly drop my plastic knife. Orville stands across the table and he is covered </span>
  <em>
    <span>head to toe</span>
  </em>
  <span> in flower petals. A silver-studded belt hugs his hips and a yellow necktie flutters in the breeze at his throat. My mouth drops open as he throws his arms out. “What do you think?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I set my bagel down and cross to his side of the table. I adjust his necktie and finger the now-pink fringe of his mask. “I genuinely don’t have words, Orvy, I-” I falter. “Do you wear this sort of thing often?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laughs deeply, a stunning sound. “No, not particularly, but this is a special occasion! It’s not every day a cowboy has a professional video shoot.” He almost caresses my cheek but pulls back. “Right, no touching… Well, um, I’d better go. Before I break my own rules.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t mind,” I murmur, but he blows me a kiss and struts away, colorful petals floating in his beautiful wake.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I lean against the now-abandoned ivy tree, eating my bagel and watching Orville fidget as the crew sets up for the shot. He prances around in his flower costume, the late afternoon sunlight causing him to glow brighter than a rainbow. Finally, the crew gets their shot and they call it a day, with filming to resume on the same schedule tomorrow. We all convene and Grant announces he is taking everyone out to eat. A glance from Orville and a tiny nod from me and we agree to join them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two hours later we’re seated in a restaurant on opposite ends of an obnoxiously long table. The crew members talk with one another and Orville and I sip my beer and listen in as best I can. Just after we order, I catch Orville’s eye and he gestures his head ever so slightly. I follow his movement and realize he’s pointing out the restrooms. My body immediately fills with familiar butterflies. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m gonna use the bathroom real quick, alright guys?” Orville stands and pats Grant on the shoulder as he strides away. He turns just before entering the bathroom and winks at me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I wait a few minutes, pretending to be interested in the conversation about different types of flowers included in the suit Orville wore, and then I excuse myself and slip into the restroom. I start glancing under the stalls, looking for Orville’s cowboy boots, but an arm wraps around my waist and whisks me into a stall. Orville pushes me up against the stall door and kisses me hard, his mask now braided and his mouth hot and delicious. His hands curl into my hair and he grinds his crotch against mine slowly. He pulls back and breathes, “You just looked so fucking good sitting across the table, I had to have you.” I pull his mouth back to mine and kiss him until the bathroom door opens and he crouches on the toilet so his feet don’t show. We giggle silently as we listen to the random man do his business and think he’s alone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He leaves after a couple of minutes and we burst into laughter, our arms around each other. He kisses me a few more times and leaves the bathroom. I wait a moment and rejoin the table. Our food has arrived and if anyone of the crew members suspects anything, they don’t show it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s close to eleven o’clock by the time we leave the restaurant and Orville and I decide to call it a night. As soon as we’re out of eyesight he slips his hand in mine and swings our arms as we walk down the empty sidewalk. Our shoulders brush against one another and I can’t help but smile to myself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When we reach our hotel he silently unlocks the door and we step inside. We collapse onto the bed and kick our shoes off. His mask is already in two braids from dinner and we kiss for a few minutes before he pulls back and studies my face. I try to study his, to fill in the blanks around the leather.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For the rest of the evening he holds my hand in his and we talk and kiss and fall deeper into whatever it is we have between us. Around one he falls asleep, and I gently remove his hat and pull the blankets up over his body. I watch his body rise and fall with his breath in the dim room and then I surrender to my sleepiness.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. I Like Him Best When He's Not Around</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This is when the Bitch Named Ian tag comes into effect. TW for mild physical/verbal abuse for a couple paragraphs</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The annoyingly loud hotel phone interrupts my blissful sleep. Through the drowsy haze, I hear Orville pick it up and mutter an acknowledgment before dropping the receiver and letting his arm fall over my body. I feel him nuzzle his face into the back of my neck and breathe deeply. It takes me a few moments to realize… it’s his bare face that’s against my neck. My heart beats faster and I’m unsure what to do. I take Orville’s outstretched hand in mine and tug, whispering, “Orvy, we have to wake up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He groans sleepily (and yes, adorably) and kisses my neck. I think he then wakes up enough to realize his mask is gone because he suddenly sits up and turns away from me. I feel him on the bed, rummaging around in the darkness for the mask. His breathing turns rapid and his movements are frantic. “Orville?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My mask is gone, that’s all,” he says, slightly panicked. I sit up, still facing away from him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll face the wall and turn on the light if you’d like,” I say, slowly standing up in the darkness. He murmurs an agreement and I follow the wall with my fingertips to the light switch. It floods the room with light and Orville says, “Got it,” and I turn around. He’s cross-legged and tangled in the sheets, and his mask is on crooked. I can’t help but smile as I sit on the bed in front of him and adjust it. He caresses my cheek as I run my fingers through the tangled fringe. He is quiet and seems small and innocent. I take his hands in mine and look into his big blue eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t claim to know why you wear this mask, and I may never know, but what I do know is that it’s important to you and I totally respect that about you.” We both smile and he holds back the fringe and kisses me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Care to join me in the shower once more?” he asks, rising to his feet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s the Orville I know and love.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He goes in first and I remove my clothes and join him a few moments later. He faces the wall and I drizzle soap over his strong back. I find my hands roaming over his torso, my chest pressed against his back, from his neck down his stomach and around to the small of his back, tracing scars and tattoos and the art of him with my fingertips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Close your eyes,” he says suddenly, and I do. I feel him turn around and face me. A thrill rushes through my body as I realize that if I just opened my eyes that I would see his face. I hear the shampoo bottle open and close and I feel his hands in my hair, rubbing the soap into my scalp. I lean my head against his chest and rest my hands on his hips and feel his soapy hands run over my shoulders. He shifts me underneath the shower’s hot spray and rinses the shampoo away, then kisses my eyelids. “You can open your eyes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s facing the wall again and I turn the water off and step out. I hand him a towel and he scrubs his hair dry and tugs on his mask. He then turns to me and pulls my naked body against his in an impossibly comforting hug. I feel so safe and so perfect in his arms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A couple of hours later, we’re back at the shoot location. Day two of two. I linger at the refreshments tent and watch Orville across the grass as the filming crew sets up. He’s engaged in an animated conversation with Redford and Grant about God knows what, but he looks amazing in the morning sunlight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You again!” A voice from behind startles me and I turn. It’s the flamboyantly gay guy from yesterday. His hair is dyed red and he has an undercut. He wears bright pink overalls and red Converse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi, yes, it’s me again,” I say, laughing a bit awkwardly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He approaches the table of food and starts on an apple. “Do you know Orville or something?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, yeah, we’re…” </span>
  <em>
    <span>What are we..?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “We’re friends, I suppose.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Really.” He looks over his huge pink sunglasses at me. “There’s no way that’s all that’s going on here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I set down my sandwich and cross my arms. “Oh really? And what makes you think that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me and Orville go way back,” he says, smirking into his apple as he bites it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My curiosity spikes. “Er, how far back?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ve known each other since high school.” A dreamy look passes over his face. “The only two out gay kids in the whole school, it only makes sense they should get together.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A pang of what I fear is jealousy shoots through me. “What was that like…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The man is good. At </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He grins. “But I suppose you’d already know that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Like I said, we’re just friends.” I take a bite from my sandwich. “So you still talk, you and Orville?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smirks more. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He knows he’s getting under my skin. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m here as a volunteer and moral support assistant, of sorts.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I am here as a friend.” I then turn away from him, trying to process what he said. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I glance up and see Orville striding across the field towards me. I’m suddenly wary.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, (Y/N), I-,” he starts, but falters when he sees the guy I spoke to. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ian</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Of course</span>
  </em>
  <span> his name is Ian. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ian saunters up to Orville and gets uncomfortably close. He stands with his hips thrusted out and his hands playfully in his pockets. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How’s it hangin', Orvy?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>My nickname</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine, Ian, how are you?” Orville’s voice has taken on a coldness I’ve never heard before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, y’know, same old.” He looks Orville up and down. “Sure do wish I could shake things up a little.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Orville stiffens and I instinctively move my body between him and Ian. Ian’s expression turns to faux surprise and he laughs in mock disbelief. “Wow, I see! Your little boyfriend is here to protect you, how sweet.” He turns to me and looks over his sunglasses. “Are you strong enough, little boyfriend? Because masked-up </span>
  <em>
    <span>Orvy</span>
  </em>
  <span> here sure isn’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A quick movement and the next thing I know Ian is lying flat on the ground, sunglasses cracked and blood streaming from his nose. Orville glowers a few feet away, hands balled into tight fists, ready to take another swing. Grant runs over and pulls him away by the shoulders and starts yelling at him. Ian groans and stumbles to his feet and screams, “Stupid freak!” as he jogs away. Grant is laying into Orville and even behind his mask I can tell that he’s on the verge of tears. I step between them and wrench Grant’s sweaty paws off Orville’s jacket. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Leave him alone, Grant,” I say with more courage and sternness than I knew I had in me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Grant looks between us for a moment and then spits on the ground. “I don’t have time for this, Orville, you know that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He was provoked, Grant, really-,” I start. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care who started what!” he shouts. “Let’s break for lunch and begin in thirty.” Grant walks away and the crew stare for a moment and then head for the food trucks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I turn to face Orville and I’m surprised to see his eyes watery. “Hey, hey, let's go back to that place we found yesterday, okay?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nods, and I grab a couple of sandwiches from the table and take his hand and we half-run half-walk across the field. I pull him along behind me and once or twice I hear a sob break in his throat but I don’t look back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We reach the rocky overlook and I set down the sandwiches and immediately wrap my arms around him. He doesn’t hug back, just stands there and sniffles. His head rests on my shoulder and then he whispers, “Close your eyes,” and he removes his hat and mask and drops them to the ground. I feel his tears and his cheeks and nose, bare, on my neck. I rub his back and we stand this way for no fewer than five minutes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pulls back and though my eyes are closed I can feel him looking at me. Then he kisses me, and I reach my hands up and feel his neck and his hair and I trace his cheekbones with my thumbs. My nose rests against his bare skin instead of black leather. It is so freeing and intimate to kiss him when he is maskless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Open your eyes,” he says after pulling back, and I’m met with his mask once more. His eyes are watery but he smiles. “I’m okay, really. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We sit on the rock as we did the day before and start eating our sandwiches. Orville takes a few half-hearted bites before setting it down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You okay, Orvy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighs. “What did Ian tell you before I… got there?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I lower my sandwich. “Um, he said you have known each other since high school and you…” I pause. “You were together?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You could call it that,” he scoffs. “Long story short, he’s the real reason I wear my mask.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m quiet, not wanting to probe further into a clearly delicate topic, but he continues.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In high school, I was ridiculously reckless and I made some pretty dumb decisions, as every high schooler does, it seems. But what I lacked most was judgment and the ability to stick up for myself. Ian completely took advantage of me and stole away whatever confidence I’d had to begin with, and I was too stupid to realize it at the time. And he left after graduation to do God knows what and left me alone, with no one. I spent a long time feeling alienated because of him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I place my hand over his and give a reassuring squeeze. He turns to me and smiles sadly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I suppose there is a happy ending, though,” he says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And what’s that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If I hadn’t had that period of isolation I never would’ve resonated so much with cowboy culture,” he says, squeezing my hand back. “And I never would have met you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I blush and smile. “Then in a strangely twisted way, I am glad things turned out the way they did.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Orville grins and takes a bite from his sandwich. “Thank you for listening, (Y/N),” he says, looking out over the hills. “I don’t really go around telling people these things because… most of the time, they don’t care.” He takes a deep breath. “But I can tell you do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I lean my head on his shoulder. “I do.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Heartbreak Is A Warm Sensation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>By the end of the shoot, Orville is in a better mood. He really seemed to cheer up when he had to lay in a huge bale of hay and strum a banjo for a shot (don’t ask, because I don’t even know). Grant yells “That’s a wrap!” and I clap and cheer along with the crew. Orville wraps his arms around mine and Grant’s shoulders and we all laugh and at that moment, everything is perfect.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But of course, all good things must come to an end. As we bounce around the backseat of Grant’s erratically-driven SUV I remember that tomorrow morning I have to fly home. Home, back to my boring life and aggressively subpar festivals and far away from </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. 373 miles away, to be exact. I know we’ll see each other again, and we’ll keep in touch, but spending every waking moment with such a remarkable person and then being completely cut off, cold turkey, is hardly something I would wish on my worst enemy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I just hold his hand and study him as the car flies over black asphalt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To celebrate the wrap of the video shoot we all go out for dinner and drinks. Our group has rented out half of this restaurant to accommodate the entire crew. I sit shoulder to shoulder with Orville in a booth with Grant and Redford on the opposite side of the table. Grant makes a toast to “the one and only Orville Peck” and Orville simply beams. It’s all I can do not to kiss him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We’re eating and talking about the absurd amount of hay that got inside Orville’s clothes during the shoot when he slides a hand up my thigh. What feels like a sparkler lights off in my chest but he keeps a regular conversation going while his fingers trace closer and closer to my crotch and oh, God, he’s squeezing me with just enough pressure for my breath to hitch. I feel myself getting aroused and look at Orville for a reaction but he is sporting an incredible poker face under his mask, paying complete attention to what Redford is saying… something about how difficult it’s going to be to get all the hay out of Orville’s outfit… but my mind is completely blank. I start squirming a little under his hand, trying to get more movement from him, but he removes his touch entirely. I can’t help but turn to look at him with a pleading expression but he doesn’t give me a second thought. I have to sit through the rest of the meal with the aching need for friction. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time dinner is over it’s nearly ten o’clock and someone has the bright idea to head down to the beach and go skinny dipping. It’s dark, they say, and no one will see anything. We all collectively say “Fuck it,” and pile into our respective vehicles. In the darkness of the backseat, Orville sneaks a hand into my pants and for once I am glad that Grant blasts such loud Americana music because I groan at the sudden friction. His fingers work magic and I find myself digging my nails into his thigh. He pulls his hand away once more, after only a couple minutes, and I resist the urge to whine. I lay a heavy hand over his groin in revenge and in a flash he grabs my wrist and growls, “Did I say you could touch me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I gulp, trying to hide the smirk that threatens to spread on my face, and shake my head no. He glares into my eyes with a burning intensity and it’s all I can do not to rip off his clothes right then and there. Orville releases my wrist and places his fingers in between my thighs, close enough to make me squirm but not close enough to be satisfied.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few minutes later the brigade of “Summertime” crew members all roll into a parking lot and we pile out and run giddily towards the water. We reach the sand and kick off cowboy boots, lay hats down, peel off our denim, and we crash into the waves with our bodies bare. Orville is wearing nothing but his mask and he looks to me like a spirit from another more beautiful world in this moonlight. Everything happens so fast. He kisses me, breathless, and we let ourselves drift. As we float, I murmur, “That was the most beautiful experience of my life.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We quietly let ourselves into our hotel room around one o’clock in the morning, completely sober yet soaring on adrenaline, and fall onto the bed. We sit cross-legged in front of each other and he takes my hands and looks into my eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“(Y/N)…” His voice is rich and slightly hushed and God, it sounds beautiful around my name. “...I know it has been such a short time since we have met. And life is nothing but a crazy game of chance and luck. But I think I hit the jackpot with you.” He smiles. “I have never felt anything before that I feel for you, (Y/N). You make me completely and utterly alive.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I feel the urge to cry but nothing happens. I only experience a blooming wildflower of joy deep in my chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think I love you, (Y/N),” he says, glancing away in embarrassment as if he wasn’t the boy who just felt me up in a busy restaurant. “No, wait, I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> I do… I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> I do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I smile and lean in to meet his lips. He tastes ocean-y and salty and completely perfect. “I love you, too, Orville Peck.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiles into the kiss and brings his hands to my cheeks. After a few moments, he pulls away and looks hesitant.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you thought about what I said? About my mask? How I wanted you to decide for yourself why I wear it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I run my hands over his legs. “Well, I think you view it as a sort of extension of yourself. Like an extra limb. You don’t just wake up one day and decide to chop off a limb. Your mask is as much a part of you as your flesh and blood.” I glance into his eyes but can’t read his expression. “It takes a real strong reason for a person to do that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m startled to see his eyes fill with tears. He holds my hands and a tear trickles down over the black leather.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are absolutely right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly he leads my hands up to his hat, his eyes locked on mine, and with his hands over mine, I remove the hat. My heart pounds in my ribs as he loosens the laces on the back of the mask, the entire time not breaking eye contact. His stare is vulnerable and trusting and then he leads my hands to the edge of the mask, and my fingers brush over his ears and then hair and then nothing and I am looking into his face. I soak in every detail: the close-cropped dirty-blonde hair, the lines of his smile, the shape of his nose, the constellation-like freckles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are the strong reason, (Y/N),” he says, his face lighting up with a smile. “You are my reason.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The morning dawns with a golden light behind the curtains, darkening the room but making the edges of the fabric glow. I feel Orville’s heat and breathing behind me, his body against mine from head to toe. His mask and cowboy hat lay empty on the carpet next to the bed and I lay enveloped in him for as long as I can. Eventually, he stirs and whispers a “Good morning” in my ear. I reply by rolling over and kissing him on his beautiful head. His hair and skin still smell of the sea. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He rises from the bed and pulls open the curtains. Bright sunlight floods the room and bathes Orville’s half-clothed body as he stands silhouetted in the window. And I fall in love.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We deliberately get ready slowly. Our shower is spent facing each other and kissing under the spray, water dripping between our lips. I get the feeling that no matter how much I look at his unimaginably perfect face, it will never be enough. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Standing on the curb, Orville masked and both of us in our cowboy hats, he hails a cab and we hold hands for the entire drive to the airport. When we arrive Orville pays the driver and unloads my suitcase. We stand on the sidewalk, the midmorning air already heating, and he hands me $15.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For the print,” he says, and I smile, remembering his request for a copy of my cowboy artwork. “Mail it to me as soon as you get back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I hold the money and then wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his neck. He hugs me just as tight. I never want to let go, but of course I do, and he kisses me, long and deliberate. He says everything he needs to in that kiss. I make a promise to call the moment I have cell service and then I cross the street to the entrance, where I look back. He’s standing there, the wind whisking through the black fringe, and he waves to me. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I fight back tears and blow a kiss, and then he’s gone.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So this is where I originally ended this fic but Lily (aka @orville.peckk on Instagram) convinced me to write more and it's turned into a full-blown saga so... stay tuned! (And follow Lily's Instagram 😼) (and mine @boycaughtintherye 😼)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Visit Once In Awhile When I'm Not At Sea</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>9:12 AM</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>orvillethepeck:</span>
  </em>
  <span> Good morning! x</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>urnme44:</span>
  </em>
  <span> hi!! what’re you up to today?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>orvillethepeck:</span>
  </em>
  <span> Oh, the usual… Messing around with my guitar, hangin’ out… You?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>urnme44:</span>
  </em>
  <span> i’m going to put your print in the mail today but i’m doing some drawing right now!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Orvillethepeck:</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ooh can I see? x</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>urnme44:</span>
  </em>
  <span> Attachment: 1 Image</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>orvillethepeck:</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ugh. Beautiful as always. &lt;3</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>urnme44:</span>
  </em>
  <span> thank you &lt;333</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>urnme44:</span>
  </em>
  <span> when can i see you again??</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>orvillethepeck:</span>
  </em>
  <span> Soon, love, I promise!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>urnme44:</span>
  </em>
  <span> soon isn’t soon enough :(</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>orvillethepeck:</span>
  </em>
  <span> I know :( &lt;3 I’ll talk to you later okay??</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>urnme44:</span>
  </em>
  <span> okay &lt;3</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So are we dating?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Beats me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whatever it is we’re doing, I love it. We’ve been texting and calling for the past week since we parted, and while that is delightful,</span>
  <em>
    <span> I miss him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You can Skype someone every second of the day but there always has to be a goodbye and a hang-up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I spend the morning drawing in my little apartment and make a sandwich for lunch. I don’t hear from Orville but that’s okay. He’s been working on some new music and I’m really proud of him for that. He played me a snippet of a song he calls “No Glory In The West” while we were FaceTiming a few nights ago, and it sounded really good.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I’m getting out of the shower when I hear the buzzer of my door. I quickly dry off and wrap a towel around my hips and walk towards the door, figuring it’s one of my friends randomly dropping by, which is an event that is commonplace. I swing open the door and my brain short-circuits. It’s him. It’s Orville. He’s holding a bouquet of roses and smiling, his mask-free face beaming.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Howdy,” he says, and I rush into his arms. He laughs and stumbles back, his arms wrapping around my bare torso. I bury my face in his shoulder and breathe him in, my heart exploding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I pull him and his suitcase into my apartment and slam the door and kiss him, his face in my hands. “How… When did you… Orvy, I-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He presses another kiss to my mouth. “I told you I’d seen you soon, didn’t I?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A wide smile spreads across his face and I hug him. “I love you,” I whisper, and I can feel his grin against my neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We sit on my bed together and I give Orville the print I was about to put in the mail for him. He runs his fingers over the smooth paper and smiles. “It’s beautiful, (Y/N).”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He kisses me and we fall back on the bed, the paper floating through the soft afternoon light to the wooden floor, and we remind each other how much we missed </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Later, an afternoon of kisses and guitar in bed behind us, we shower together in my little bathroom and get ready to go to an early dinner. I promised Orville that when he inevitably visited me, we would go to the food trucks and get vegan tacos. Of course, I thought it would be weeks, even months, before that happened… Yet here I am, having received the greatest surprise he could ever give me.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We walk hand in hand down the street, our silence comfortable, Orville in his mask and hat, me bare-faced and my own cowboy hat on my head. I buy us two tacos each and we sit in the park in the early evening air to eat. A street musician nearby notices our hats and launches into a loose cover of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Folsom Prison Blues</span>
  </em>
  <span> for us. Orville pulls me to my feet, and we laugh and dance to the song together. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After the song, we tip the musician generously and walk to a record store, where we each pick out a record and give it to the other. He gives me </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yourstruly</span>
  </em>
  <span> by Dale Hollow, and I give him Bon Iver’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>For Emma, Forever Ago</span>
  </em>
  <span>. We walk hand-in-hand back to my apartment and smoke and listen to the albums, laying side by side on my bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The final notes of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Re: Stacks</span>
  </em>
  <span> fade away and Orville turns his head and kisses my temple. “I have good news to tell you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I sit up on my elbows. “Oh really?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mm-hmm.” He tries to conceal a grin as he pauses for dramatic effect. I slap him lightly on the shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tell me! The suspense is killing me!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His whole face breaks into glee. “I got signed by Columbia Records.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A gasp escapes me and he smiles even wider. I pull him to me and kiss his face all over, gushing my congratulations as he laughs and squirms. My lips finally meet his and I kiss him long and hard. When I pull back I smile and whisper, “I’m so proud of you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At 7 PM we are at the loading site for a jeep tour of the town and the surrounding nature. I’ve been before, many times on various dates and by myself, but I get the feeling that this time will be like none other. We sit side-by-side with a few middle-aged women opposite us, clearly the Karen type, looking us up and down and whispering amongst each other, as if we aren’t three feet away with functioning ears. Typically, when presented with Karens, I feel the need to tone down the gayness, but not tonight. Tonight I hold Orville’s hand and lay my head on his shoulder with a smile as we begin driving through the town. The Karens stare but I stare back until they get uncomfortable and look away. Serves them right. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Our driver Mike rattles off facts about the town that I have practically memorized by now. I whisper the words Mike says as he says them, and Orville gapes at me in wonder. “What? I love my town!” He smiles and kisses the top of my head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Soon we leave the nicely paved road and rattle over red rocks and dirt, the jeep flinging us around. Orville’s arm is wrapped tight around my shoulders as we’re tossed around the vehicle, only secured by a rather small seatbelt across each of our laps. The fringe of Orville’s mask flies around and nearly hits me, but I don’t mind. The jeep scales mounds of stone with ease and Mike points out the towering red rock formations ahead of us. They stand hundreds of feet tall, glowing in the sun’s golden light, and I watch Orville as he ooh’s and aah’s. We drive up onto a flat expanse of rock above the surrounding brush and vacate the vehicle. Mike tells us a few more facts but I take Orville’s hand and lead him away from the group. We lay on the side of the huge rock, our bodies at a 45-degree angle, and watch as the sun drizzles dewy goldness over everything as it sets. “See the rocks in the light, Orvy?” I ask, pointing. He kisses my shoulder and nods. “That’s my favorite color.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re mine,” he says, and it’s the only thing that could ever break my attention away from the beautiful sunset, and I tuck back the fringe in front of his mouth and lean down to kiss him, and he whispers “I love you” using our shared breath and God, if I could wrap this moment up in a painting I think the Louvre in Paris would have to relocate the Mona Lisa to make room for something as beautiful as this.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Fell in Love With a Jailer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter gets a little crazy :0 TW for jealous ex, violence (nothing super graphic), mild substance abuse, trauma. It's not that heavy but it's a little intense!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Orville has to go back home the next morning, but we parted with plans for me to visit him in a couple of weeks. I watch him as he disappears behind the airport doors as he did me, and suddenly I’m alone again. My phone buzzes in my pocket.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>orvillethepeck</span>
  </em>
  <span>: God, I miss you already :(</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>urnme44</span>
  </em>
  <span>: we’ll see each other again soon &lt;3</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The two weeks between visits simultaneously fly by and drag on and on. The day of, I waste no time throwing my clothes in a suitcase and have no trouble finding my gate at the airport. It’s amazing how much less nervous I am this time, the fleeting anxious butterflies replaced with sheer excitement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I emerge from the maze that is the airport and scan the baggage area for Orville, finally spotting him, unmasked and hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, a bag slung over his shoulder, bouncing on the balls of his feet nervously. We lock eyes and a terrific smile spreads across his face as he strides over to me. We hold each other tightly and I feel any worries I may have had slip away in the embrace.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We wait for a taxi on the curb and the city’s evening air encases us in its warmth. We take the cab that inevitably arrives out of the city. The driver grumbles but Orville tips him well when we are dropped off at a barely noticeable dirt road. Orville takes my hand and we walk down the road and from here, the city looks so small, the orange glow of light pollution gripping the sky above it, but from here it barely matters. We reach a patch of grass and Orville produces a blanket and two containers of take-out from his bag. I can’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness when I realize mine is the pizza I so loved a few weeks ago. He lays out the blanket and we face the sparkling city in silence as we eat. Orville finishes before me and he lays back on the blanket, at which moment he gasps and whispers, “(Y/N), you’ve got to see this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I quickly swallow the rest of my pizza and lay back and wow. The entire galaxy is visible from here. Millions and millions of stars twinkle between cosmic dust and the occasional airplane. I nuzzle my head into Orville’s shoulder and feel the heat of his body and wonder how, out of all the universes out there, I managed to find my way to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We lay there for hours, kissing and cuddling under the stars, and we take an Uber back to the city, where Orville has a hotel room. We’re both pretty tired so we begin undressing for bed. We’re about to lay down when there’s a rap at the door. Orville rises and peers through the peephole. I watch his whole body freeze. “What’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He swallows and whispers, his voice strained, “It’s Ian.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>My jaw drops open. “What is he doing here?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Orville quickly rushes back to the bed and grabs his mask and hat from the nightstand. “I don’t know, but he looks pretty out of it.” His hands tremble as they pull the mask over his face, and he jumps when Ian knocks again. I place a reassuring hand on his knee. “I’ll call down to the desk and ask them to escort Ian out.” Orville nods, and I pick up the phone. As I’m dialing, the knocking turns quickly to a heavy pounding, and Orville cowers in the bed, his half-naked body shaking. I tangle my fingers with his as I speak to the hotel receptionist. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few minutes later we hear Ian’s slurred voice resisting the security people who came to our rescue. There’s a scuffle and two loud thumps and then the doorknob turns. Orville clings to my body as the door swings open, flooding the room with the hallway’s light, casting a long ominous shadow from Ian. A sharp knife gleams in his hand. I fumble for the emergency button on the hotel phone and press just as Ian lunges at the bed. We scatter, bolting for the door. Ian trips me and I scream as I fall to the hard carpet, my teeth crashing together on impact. Ian leaps on top of me and tries to thrust the knife down but I catch his wrist. His eyes are filled with poorly masked hurt and anger. Orville turns and I see his foot connect with Ian’s face. He lunges back with a shriek and I scramble to my feet. Orville pulls me into the hallway where the two security guards lay in blood, both still alive but bleeding badly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Play dead!” Orville hisses and their bodies go limp. “We’ll come for you.” And then we run.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a few seconds we hear Ian’s fast footsteps chasing us. We throw open the stair access door and thunder down, the whole time clutching at each other and screaming to alert anyone who might be there. We reach the lobby and haul ass to the desk, where we choke out that we’re the ones who called, and the woman at the desk quickly ushers us to hide behind the desk and calls emergency services. We crouch under the desk next to the woman, underwear-clad and shaking and heaving for breath, and I realize Orville is crying. I hold him as he quietly sobs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We hear the door slam open and Ian’s footsteps shuddering to a halt as he scans the lobby for us. The few workers who had been hanging around flee the scene and the woman acts surprisingly calm. We begin to hear sirens and Ian’s footsteps start again and get quieter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’s gone,” the woman whispers, and glances down at us, grasping each other and taking quivering breaths. She produces two long coats from the coatroom and we pull them on over our bodies. We don’t emerge from behind the desk until the police team enters the building and declares it clear. Ian has fled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>We don’t go back to the hotel room. An officer packs up our things for us and we spend the night at the police station in a hotel-like room. I don’t think either of us sleep. We just hold each other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the morning the detectives tell us they’ve opened an investigation and a search to find Ian. When I ask about the two security guards Ian injured, the detectives won’t tell me directly if they’re okay. They ask us a bunch of questions and I can tell it’s really hard for Orville to talk about his past, but he does it and I squeeze his hand under the table when his voice cracks with pain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Later that day we receive word that Ian was found in a park, dead, from a self-inflicted stab wound. I hold Orville’s shaking shoulders as he sobs, mournful wails erupting from his body. Trauma is funny like that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Orville decides to take a little while off from music, and with the blessing of his band and management, we fly back to my city and he stays with me for a few weeks. Nothing intimate occurs for the first two weeks, but after many heartfelt talks and crying sessions, trying to process what happened, we make love all over my tiny apartment. He doesn’t wear his mask anymore when we go out. He took the plunge and chopped off that extra limb. He told me he doesn’t feel like he has to hold on to that extra limb anymore. He said I am and always will be his reason to keep going, to be himself, to love and live unconditionally and without shame. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And there’s nothing better I could wish for him than that.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Alright, I originally made this my final ending point... again... but I can't seem to keep away from this storyline!! It's becoming quite the saga! More to come soon!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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